


Seventh

by ragdollrory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday Fluff, BoM - Freeform, Everyone's invited to the party - Freeform, Keith's a great boyfriend, Kosmo - Freeform, M/M, MFE, Paladins, Shiro's birthday, Shiro's grandparents - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23013220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdollrory/pseuds/ragdollrory
Summary: The two times Shiro turned seven.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	Seventh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bioplast_hero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/gifts).



> I started writing this to be a thread on twitter, then it got a little longer, so after debating it for the better part of a day, I'm posting it in both places.
> 
> This it a gift for lovely, amazing [Hiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioplast_hero/pseuds/bioplast_hero/works)! 🖤 If you haven't already, go check out his works, because they're amazing!
> 
> A big thank you to my Beta for this, [Taenith](https://twitter.com/Taenith_Rain). You're a sweetheart!

Birthday number seven finds Shiro coloring.

He’s alone in a room which at first glance could pass as his, what with the plush toys and space posters. There’s a little lego spacecraft on the side table too, and the small wardrobe is filled with his clothes.

The place is too white though, and too sterile. The bed doesn’t have sturdy wooden legs, or stickers all over the frame, even when there’s one of his grandma’s knitted blankets thrown on top of the starched white sheets.

It’s been a while since the last nurse visited. Shiro looks at the clock on the wall- he knows the next one will come soon. They’ll bring his snacks for the afternoon, and he’ll watch Pokemon while he eats. TV helps distract him while they run all the tests they need to do every day. The nurses explained it's to see if he's getting better, if he's  _ improving _ . A new word Shiro has learned.

He must not be though, because it’s been days, and he’s still not going home. Grandma visited twice already, Grandpa only once, because he’s working. Shiro’s little, but he knows it’s expensive to have him here, have him sick.

Plus, the hospital in his town can’t help him. Shiro had to be taken to this big one, a long bus and a train ride away. It’s not easy for his grandparents to visit every day. He hopes they’ll come today, though. That they remember.

Snacks that day are a little bit better; there’s a cupcake with a candle, and the nurse that brings it comes with the rest of the afternoon staff. They bring Shiro balloons, and a pokeball with an elastic string at the back, and a little Bulbasaur inside. According to the box, it will catch it if Shiro's aim is good.

After the celebration -and the tests- Shiro is left to play again. He tries the pokeball several times, until he finally manages a catch, and then places it carefully on the bedside table.

By the time the door opens again, he's drawn in five more pages of his sketchbook- including one picture of the cupcake he was given- and taken a nap.

He blinks sleep from his eyes, smile blooming on his lips at the sight of his grandparents.

It's late at night, just past midnight, when they sing happy birthday to him, right between the 28th and the 1st. Grandpa gives Shiro new colored pencils, and Grandma says she brought mac and cheese, but the nurses will give it to him for lunch the next day.

"Happy birthday, Takashi." Grandma kisses his forehead as she leaves, while Grandpa ruffles his hair, tells him to be good for the nurses. Shiro always is.

It's not a bad birthday, but it's just like the room, almost his, but not quite. Shiro doesn't know it then, as he goes to bed hugging his presents, but that's going to be a constant in his life.

-

The second time Shiro turns seven, he's working.

He's been swamped by paperwork all week, trapped in his quarters-turned-office because that way he saves time on trips between his desk and his bed. It's less than ideal, but as with almost everything in his life thus far, it will have to suffice.

His room, despite being one of the largest private locations among the many, many areas of the Atlas, is not even lived in.

There's only his uniforms hanging in the closet. Nothing hangs from the walls except for a single award plaque he got from the Garrison after the end of the war, carefully affixed to the wall near the entrance to his quarters. There's not even any books on the shelves he imagines were built for them. 

All his personal items from before he left on the Kerberos mission were lost. No one could tell him if they were deliberately discarded sometime after the announcement of "pilot error" or if the ravages of alien invasion had meant others needed to use the things of a dead man.

Anyway, he reminds himself, now everything he might want is stored in his padd.

The most life the room ever gets is when Keith's aboard, back from a mission. Even then, Keith has always had so few belongings. At the very least, Kosmo will shed some blue hairs all over the place, and Shiro will have a reminder for a couple of days after they're off once again.

He hasn't heard from Keith since the previous night, when they managed a brief video call. Keith swore he'd try and dock before Shiro's birthday started. The soft glow of the clock displaying on the desk tells Shiro there's only a couple of hours left on the 28th- and that he's missed lunch… and dinner too.

With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders that makes his back muscles pop all up his spine, Shiro decides he might as well go to bed. It's not like he expects Keith to show up right at midnight. He does know how hard it is to coordinate such trips, hopping between solar systems and even galaxies.

But it's also not hard for his mind to convince itself that there's a chance Keith won't make it on time at all, and that would be okay too. He's hardly heard from his friends in the past few days either, and maybe he should be reaching out to them more. But it's also easy for time to slip by when you're busy orbiting Earth, and they're out there doing greater things.

It could be Shiro is projecting, but as the lights dim in his room, he swears Atlas hums a birthday song to him.

The next time he opens his eyes, it's to a pair of glowing purple ones he's come to know intimately. Keith brushes his fingers through Shiro's hair and then brings their lips together. Even when his mind is still sleep-clouded, his body awakens for Keith.

"You ready, birthday boy?", is almost all the warning he gets. Keith envelops Shiro in a hug, and then Kosmo's bumping his nose on Shiro's side, and suddenly they leave Atlas behind.

It takes Shiro a moment to figure out where they are once they pop back into reality again. With solid ground under his feet now, Shiro realizes it's a relief that he's half asleep still, because he can only imagine how the image that looks back at him would hit if he weren't.

"Keith," Shiro murmurs, their hands finding each other. Shiro's hands tighten around Keith's the same way Shiro's emotions grip at his chest. 

They're in the backyard of a house Shiro's very familiar with, but one he hasn't seen in some time. Such a very long time. But there's no anger or reproach in the faces of the couple waiting at the door. Only love, just as always.

He pries his eyes off them, to look at Keith, who's sporting a soft, if hesitant, smile. Shiro opens his mouth to speak, but a shuddering breath is all that he manages before crushing Keith into a hug, whispering thank-yous into his hair.

"There's more people inside," Keith tells him, from down where Shiro keeps him pressed to his chest. "But you take your time here, we'll wait as long as you need."

"Yeah, okay." His voice crumbles around the words. Keith squeezes Shiro a moment longer, and breaks their embrace with a peck on his lips.

There's tears clouding his gaze already, but he doesn't bother to wipe them away. He lets them flow because he knows there's more to come, and he's not ashamed of them.

Time is hazy then: it could be fifteen minutes or two hours later whenever Shiro and his grandparents finally make their way inside. He's not sure how long they spent just embracing each other, him apologizing for the suffering he put them through while they promised there's nothing to forgive.

It should be exhausting, and perhaps he'll fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow that night, but right now Shiro's relieved. There's a weight off his shoulders he didn't know he was carrying still.

The sight once he steps into the living room though… it brings tears to his eyes once again, but this time followed by a happy chuckle and a blush on his cheeks.

There's people crammed into every corner of the room. All the chairs and stools from the whole house are occupied, and that's with people sharing, and sitting in each other's laps as well. 

The paladins are the first faces Shiro catches, his family, all grinning like mad. Then there's the MFE pilots, and the rest of the Holts, and Krolia and Kolivan all but hidden in a corner. Kolivan especially looks less than relaxed, but gives Shiro a nod- and what he'll say is a smile- when their eyes meet.

As he goes around the room to properly greet everyone, Coran, Romelle, and Keith walk in from the kitchen, their hands full of bowls of mac and cheese. Everyone promptly laughs when he bursts into tears once more. This time, he does hide his face behind his hands.

After eating, they move the party outside, lounging around on the patio in scattered groups. Shiro spends a little time with each cluster of people so dear to him, but ends up returning to his grandparents every time. His heart mends a little further every time his grandmother calls him Takashi, and even though he's made his hair is a mess, Shiro leans in to let his grandfather ruffle it as many times as the man wants.

By the time the cake arrives, a big number seven decoration at the top, he's lost count of how many times he's thanked everyone. And when they all leave, he hugs each and every one of them with as much meaning as he can.

When he parts ways with Veronica, Shiro's informed he's officially on leave. Shiro just shakes his head wonderingly towards Keith, because  _ of course _ he is.

His childhood room is untouched, his grandma tells him, handing Shiro an extra blanket that night. He refuses to think about just  _ where _ he and Keith are going to walk into in just a moment. Tries to remember exactly how many posters of cartoons he had up on the walls when he left for the Garrison.

After they go in, he watches Keith inspect everything. Keith picks up several of the trinkets and toys laying around the room, but Shiro keeps his lips sealed from trying to explain he was a very dorky kid. Mostly because he knows Keith will just fire back that he's a very dorky  _ adult _ .

"So," Keith's smile when he turns around, Shiro's pokeball in hand, is devastating. No one should be allowed to look that good holding a pokeball, ever. "I can't believe I'm in Takashi Shirogane's room. I'll be the envy of the entire Garrison, now."

"Keith," Shiro laughs, fingers reaching out to close around his wrist and pull the man to him, before he says anything more. He knows his blush makes no sense, because this is isn't even the twelfth-dirtiest thing Keith has said to him. And yet, it still makes him stupid with love, stomach full of butterflies.

"What?!" Keith challenges with a glare, chin up to Shiro. "It's  _ true _ ."

"Maybe," Shiro concedes, if only because he will always say yes to Keith, no matter what. "The Garrison already knows I'm yours, though. There's nothing else you have to prove."

"Hmm… okay then." His eyes tighten at the corners. They even glow a little, Galra-yellow in the dim light of the room.

Shiro's not sure who bridged the gap- both of them, probably- and then they are kissing. Keith's lips, always incredibly soft and full, move so easily with his, as if they'd been doing this their whole lives. As much as he'd like to, he can't let this go further, not here of all places. And yet, Shiro's tongue pushes past Keith's lips. One moment longer, Shiro tells himself.

"I love you." 

The words are said softly, just into the corner of Keith's mouth. They are a thank you, for everything, for today and every day since they met. And they are also a promise that Shiro will return all Keith gives him. All he deserves.

"Show me how this works?" Keith shakes the pokeball between them. The way his teeth catch on his lower lip, purple eyes soft and wide and clear, tells Shiro the message was received.

"Of course, here, let me-" Shiro opens it with a smile, a small Vulpix sliding onto Keith's palm.

Shiro teaches Keith how to catch it again, and  _ of course _ he manages it at the first try, a beaming smile pulling at his lips for a moment until a blush takes over. But before he can make a comment on how it's silly, Shiro's pulling out a box with the rest of the collectible creatures.

He knows how much Keith missed, going from home to home. Keith had never owned many toys, and Shiro has always had more than he could play with on his own.

If someone were to ask, Shiro and Keith went straight to bed as soon as the last guest left, and nothing else happened.

They didn't stay up until sunrise playing with Pokemon and building the Garrison out of legos. They didn't play game after game of cards, because they were both too competitive to admit defeat. They hadn't sprawled on the floor, coloring pencils scattered between them as they drew anything that came to mind. 

Keith's a much better artist than Shiro is, but Shiro won't compete at this, drawing a heart with both their names inside, to gift to him instead. And then Kosmo, and the cake Hunk made for the day.

They end up falling asleep on the bedroom floor, Kosmo acting as their pillow, the two of them cuddling together under a starry blanket much too small for two grown men.

If someone asked, it wasn't Shiro's grandma who woke them up the next day, with hot cocoa and fluffy pancakes. And they didn't go out to buy a new lego set and spend the rest of the day trying to recreate Atlas on the living room floor, either.

Best seventh birthday ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ragdollrory)!


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